


Spiral's in the Dark

by Babykitsune9



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Bleach
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is a Saint, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, F/M, Female Kurosaki Ichigo, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mentions of kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Kurosaki Ichigo, Sex Addiction, bruce wayne is a good man, dark themes, funny damian, keeping bat's identity secret
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-28 11:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30138648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babykitsune9/pseuds/Babykitsune9
Summary: He was a hero, who was always in control. Until he was captured and drugged and woke up a week later naked, on the dirty floor of...some rat infested hell hole with her. and no idea of whether or not he's done something unthinkable.
Relationships: bruce wayne/ichigo kurosaki
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

It was a mistake. A _huge_ , monumental, life altering mistake. Yet it was one that he refused to back down from even now, despite his initial embarrassment over it. After all, it wasn't as if he had expected to be caught unawares and captured by one of the villains that ran rampant through Gotham and drugged with god-knows-what before finally managing to escape.

But now that he had he _really_ needed to figure out what he'd been given so that he could figure out what he needed to do to counter act it before it did too much harm.

However the longer that he sat in his hiding spot. He was at least half a block from the warehouse that he'd decided to hit this evening when the first pulse hit him. Nearly making him stagger, once he was on his feet, under the nearly overwhelming need that began to crawl through his body.

He froze up for a moment and felt his body harden and ache. And his eyes widened a fraction in shocked realization a moment before he began to _burn_.

He might have swore. Then again he might not have.

He sort of had other things on his mind than wasting his breath cursing right then.

It was difficult to tell through with the weird haze that was gradually taking grip of his mind. Everything blurred together and became vague. And he didn't know what was going on _to_ him or _around_ him. All he knew was that his last coherent thought was that he felt himself falling.

Everything after that was a blur to him and difficult to recall.

He didn't know what had happened between the haze muddling his thoughts and the world becoming vague. Truly he didn't. He didn't know how long he had been out. How much time had passed. Where he was. Hell, he couldn't even recall _who_ he fucking was right then.

All he did know was that once the haze lifted...and he opened his eyes, he wasn't alone.

It was a sad fact that wasn't well known by terribly many, but when a drug of some sort was strong enough to make you forget everything between one moment and the next- several things tended to happen.

One, someone almost always got _hurt_. It was usually the person who was drugged up, but on occasion someone else- an innocent, random bystander- tended to get hurt too.

It mostly depended entirely on the drugged person's state of mind, what exactly the drug did to them, and how well they handled whatever situation they found themselves in.

Two, there was almost always some sort of awkwardness.

Sometimes it was because someone woke up in weird places. Or sometimes it was because someone lost _all_ inhibitions and decided to run butt naked down the street until they were caught.

Reaching up at the mere thought of streaking around the city butt naked, he felt for his mask and was relieved to feel that it was still firmly in place. _Oh thank god._ He thought wearily as his hand dropped back to his lap for a moment.

He was pretty sure that Alfred would lecture him from now till doomsday if he ever lost his frigging mask and exposed his secret identity. And that was only after the man pistol-whipped him a few times.

After all, he'd be pretty pissed. And he knew from more than a few personal experiences that one should never, ever _upset_ a proper British man like Alfred.

Turning his head to look at the other person, deciding that he should check on them before he made any further moves. He didn't know what he was expecting exactly, especially when it came to the person lying more or less naked beside him. But he wasn't expecting the sudden feeling of utter horror when he turned said person over and finally got a good look at them.

Nor was he expecting to find his companion to be a mere teenager. A girl. No- a _child. Someone's little girl, their daughter..._

He felt nauseous as he looked at her, yet couldn't stop himself from carefully taking in her features down to the very last detail. After all, if he had assaulted her- and it was starting to look very much as if he might have- then he needed to know the face of the person he needed to redeem himself too. Right?

She was an exotically beautiful, young lady, he noted. Her features were delicate, almost on par with many of the model's and actresses that he tended to have on his arm whenever he dated.

She had soft tan skin, swollen lips, eyes that were hidden underneath a fringe of dark sooty lashes, blue-black hair that was close to mid back length.

He couldn't tell what the style was. All he could really make out was the layers of feathery wisps that curled here and there at the tips.

He was quick to estimate her age to be between fourteen and sixteen. Which did _not_ help with his nausea at all.

Nor did the very noticeable signs of dark bruises, and even some blood around her mouth- from a split lip, thank god- one of her nipples where it looked as if he'd bitten her a bit harder than he should have. The only other noticeable thing that he could see was the dried and flaking blood on the inside of her thighs.

Though it was a little bit hard to tell if it had actually come from her privates or from the deep looking red scratch marks from his fingernails dragging along her skin there.

The only good thing that he could tell about her state, was that she was alive. Her pulse was strong, and her breathing wasn't labored. In fact for all intents and purposes, she seemed to just be asleep.

Which he supposed was also good since he would have absolutely no fucking idea how to handle a hysterical, and traumatized teenage girl.

Groaning as he scrubbed his face with his hands, he could imagine how angry and disappointed Alfred was going to be when he saw him again.

He might even decide to kill him- no scratch that, Alfred had every right to be upset with him, but he didn't have any right to kill him anymore.

His life now belonged to the girl in every sense of the word, he silently vowed as he slowly got to his feet.

He would do whatever was absolutely necessary to see to it that he made up for his terrible blunder. If she wanted him to die, he'd die. If she wanted to unmask him, and hand him over to the authorities- then that was what he would do.

Unquestioningly, unflinchingly- he would do anything that she demanded of him no matter how horrible. It was the least that he could do for her to make up for this.

_If_ he could even make up for this.

Quickly locating his clothing in a pile several feet away, and moved to get it so that he could get dressed. It took him several minutes due to the fact that he was thinking about everything, mulling over different and various details, trying to recall as much as he could so that when Alfred asked him what he'd done- he could answer him honestly.

However he couldn't recall much aside from some small snippets of conversation between himself and the girl. The snippets were few. And didn't really tell him much of anything really. With the exception of one thing that he knew with absolute certainty, her name.

_Ichigo Kurosaki._

Curling his fingers into fists, he couldn't help but feel frustrated that he couldn't recall anything else. Though the memory of snippets of conversation between himself and the girl- no, Ichigo- meant that he had at some point been fighting against the drug pumping through his veins.

He wasn't sure if he should feel proud of that fact or not given the grim reality staring him in the face right now. But the fact that he'd talked to her, maybe even tried to explain what was wrong with him, gave him a small measure of comfort. Miniscule though it may be.

Pulling on his gloves, he took a moment to look around for his companion's clothing and paused when he saw a small pile of torn and dirty rags lying around the floor. He cringed at the sight of the torn and dirt covered articles of clothing.

He wouldn't be placing those on Ichigo's body so that he could take her home with him. He especially doubted any of the items would even cover her body modestly anymore given their state.

But he also didn't want to risk her getting some sort of infection either.

Huffing quietly he looked around for something else that he could use to cover her with, but found that the immediate area was rather... _bare_ of anything even remotely useful. It occurred to him after a moment or so that this place- which was so unfamiliar to him- may actually be her home.

He swore. Foully.

So much so that if Alfred had been around to hear him, he would have washed his mouth out with soap. Repeatedly.

Still...after a moment or so of careful deliberation, he finally decided that he'd use his cape to wrap her body in. Fishing into his utility belt, he found the remote device that would bring his Batmobile to him, and pressed the button hoping that it would be there within the time it took for him to collect Ichigo and get the hell out of the...building? Warehouse? _Whatever_.

He was getting them both the hell out of there, now.


	2. Chapter 2

The moment that he was inside of his Batmobile, he finally felt as if he could breathe again. And not a moment too soon either. If he'd stayed in that place for one more second, he likely would have burned the place down just to get out. Of course, it somewhat helped to have Ichigo with him.

He wasn't sure exactly how having her with him helped ease some of his anxiety. But it did. So he didn't question the feeling overly much. Instead he simply focused on getting them both back to home again.

Speaking of home... He needed to call Alfred and give him a head's up about their young guest, since she'd likely be staying with them for an undisclosed amount of time while she healed.

Taking a moment to peek over at the passenger seat where Ichigo was slumped over, unconscious, he took a second to wonder just how he'd found her _before_...everything that had happened?

The building that he'd found them both in was a condemned one. Definitely in need of some serious TLC or possibly even demolishing. It was almost inconceivable to him that she might have actually been living there under such...unlivable, and inhumane conditions.

After all, he'd seen third world countries with better living conditions than _that_ fucking place. Still...if she had been living there, then she obviously needed someone to help her.

Exhaling after a moment of holding his breath without realizing it, he decided to focus on something else. pressing the buttons that connected his communication device to his home, he waited patiently for Alfred to answer.

But when he finally did, he didn't expect the man to snap at him about disappearing for a _week_. Instead of becoming irritated or angry at being snapped at- his mind latched onto the one word and refused to let go as he found himself asking weakly, "A week? A whole week?"

Alfred seemed to realize that something was wrong immediately, since he softened his tone and answered his question. Confirming that he had been gone for a whole week straight. Which nearly sent him into a panic attack.

Waking up with very little memory, the loss of time- the sheer potency of the drug that he'd been given was _beyond_ frightening now that he knew how long he'd been out of it.

After all, he had no way of knowing what he'd been doing that entire week. Had he run around Gothem attacking people? Killing? What if Ichigo wasn't the first person that he'd assaulted? What if she was just the only one to have _survived_? The thought made the nausea from earlier return full force.

_Oh god, oh god, oh god-_ He thought in horror and dread as he slapped a hand over his mouth. He was going to be sick.

He wound up throwing up in the floor of his side of the car since he literally had nowhere else to go at the moment, and with as fast as the vehicle was moving- he'd never be able to stop it in time to actually manage to get out. And once he was done, he simply leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

Alfred had gone silent for the moment, obviously trying to listen for clues to his current condition. Given the fact that he'd just thrown up, the man was probably thinking that he had caught a stomach bug or something.

"I need you to listen to me carefully, Alfred." He finally said after several moments of utter silence. "I'm...okay. Physically. However the young lady that I'm brining home with me- isn't."

"Sir?"

"I need you to make up a guest room. Use one of the bedrooms close to my own. I also need you to... pull out the first aid kit that we have in the house to use for emergencies. I also need you to see if you can purchase some clothing." He took a moment to calculate Ichigo's clothing size and told him to get some nightgowns, PJ's, dresses, shirts and pants, socks and whatever else that he could think of.

He wanted her to have enough to feel comfortable while she was with them. He also told Alfred that he needed to call Dick and Damion. He would need to speak to all three of them as soon as possible. Once that was done, he hung up and then put his head in his hands and cried for the first time in years.

He wasn't sure how long he cried, the sad truth of the matter was that his concept of time was still off. However he was grateful to have stopped by the time the car entered the secret entrance of the Bat cave. After that it was only a matter of time before the vehicle came to a total and complete stop.

When it finally did, he could see Alfred standing there with the first aid kit in his hands.

He looked anxious to him. Which was understandable, he supposed. But that anxiety was going to spike dangerously once he saw him pull Ichigo out of the car. Especially since she wasn't dressed, conscious, and well...covered in bruises and blood.

Reaching up the second that the top was open, he grasped the side of the car and pulled himself out of it. Alfred stepped forward to say something, but he held a hand up to indicate silence was needed right now. As he walked around the car and then carefully lifted Ichigo out of it and cradled her in his arms.

She made a small sound of protest that startled him a little bit. But thankfully not enough to make him accidentally drop her. That would have been bad. Especially now that Alfred had seen the state that she was in.

He cast a quick glance in the man's direction and noted that he had paled at the sight of her. He didn't have to keep his eyes on him to know that he was visibly shaken, and for a damn good reason too. It wasn't everyday that he brought a teenage girl home with him.

Especially one that wasn't clothed and looked as if she'd gotten in a fight with something and probably lost.

Finally as he was moving back around the car to make his way to one of the gurney's that they kept for when he did bring someone back home with him that needed help- usually because of some sort of poisoning, of Joker's gas. Although they did use them on occasion when he got himself injured. But that was neither here nor there.

He had just reached one and was beginning to lay Ichigo down on it when he heard Alfred finally say hesitantly, "What happened master Bruce?"

Once she was lying on the gurney, he reached up and removed his mask as he said, "I honestly don't know. I can't remember. All I do know, is that I did this. I _hurt_ her."

Something akin to shock flashed across Alfred's face for a moment before it then turned into something along the lines of grim determination. All the man could manage to say to him then was, "I see." As he moved across the floor so that he could get closer to the gurney. The first aid kit still in his hands as he closed the distance between them until they were standing shoulder to shoulder.

"I expect some answers once you do remember," Alfred said softly as he set the kit down and began to open it up and pull items out as he tacked on. "Until then, all I can do is help you to help her."

"I know." He said feeling as if he might begin to cry again while Alfred began to prepare everything to be used. He handed him some cotton balls wet with alcohol, and he carefully pulled his cape aside so that he could clean the bite mark on her breast and the marks on the inside of her thighs while the elderly man watched him silently.

Knowing him the way that he did, Alfred was likely cataloging every injury that he could see. Which thanks to his cape being in the way, was very few aside from the bruises.

It was while he was attempting to clean some of the blood off of Ichigo's thighs that she began to stir a bit. And though her eyes didn't open, her hand somehow managed to grab his wrist- causing him to freeze up and look towards her face expecting to see a condemning expression there.

However instead of seeing a condemning expression for the obvious violence that he'd done to her and the pain that she had been put through.

But all he saw was a concerned frown?

Reaching out, he started to hesitantly place his other hand on hers, over the top of his captured wrist when he heard a raspy-husky voice ask almost cautiously, _"You back yet?"_

Most people will never tell anyone about how three simple words altered their lives for better or worse. Certainly not such small, and non love related words. And yet...he could feel his world shift. His life had been thrown off it's original axis was now finding a new one.

He didn't know what to make of it. All he knew was that those three words, as simple and ordinary as they may be for some people- held a wealth of meaning to him.

You back yet- meant that she had known that he had been drugged with something. However he still didn't know if he'd attacked her or not. After all, she might have tried to go and get him help. Even if it meant putting his identity at risk.

Finally, he placed his other hand over her own and replied in a shaky tone. "I-I am. I'm okay."

It was difficult to hear her response the second time, but he thought he'd heard her say. _Good. I'm glad._ But then again, maybe he was going crazy.


	3. Chapter 3

After that, he finished treating her injuries and with Alfred leading him through the mansion to the room that he'd made up for her to occupy, he even managed to give her a nice bath. She slept through it, which made it a little bit awkward. But he still managed anyways.

And once he was done cleaning her completely, he wrapped her in a large fluffy towel and then carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed while Alfred went to fetch some of his silk PJ's for her to use for the time being.

That way she wouldn't be left without anything covering her nakedness since Alfred mentioned that she couldn't sleep naked. Especially in a house full of males. It would lead to hysterical screaming and embarrassment for everyone.

So upon the other man's return, he took the PJ's from him, absently noting that it was his sapphire blue set and he then took a few minutes to dress her. And once that was done, he carefully tucked her into bed and then left the room so that she could rest.

He'd check on her in a few hours to see if she woke up or needed anything. Like food or maybe something to drink. He knew that he needed some of both. He'd trained himself years ago before becoming Batman to recognize the signs of severe hunger and dehydration.

And if he was finally starting to feel the effects of it through the surge of adrenaline that had literally been keeping him on his feet for the past hour or so... Then he could only imagine how _badly_ Ichigo would be feeling later, once she awoke and was a bit more coherent.

He only managed to get a little bit further down the hall before his legs finally started to buckle on him and he started to collapse.

He wasn't sure at this point what it was exactly that was making him feel so damned weak. He could only hazard a guess that it was maybe a little bit of everything _both_ physical and emotional.

The past hour or so had certainly been a roller coaster for him. And in all honesty, he was ready to get the hell off.

Hitting the floor on his knees, he let himself flop over sideways so that he was resting his shoulder against the wall, and sort of curled in on himself a little bit. He felt so helpless. So out of control.

He had _never_ been helpless or out of control before, so he could honestly say that he didn't like either feeling very much. But he wasn't sure how to fix- or make the feeling go away. Not right now anyways. He supposed that whether or not he could fix/make the feeling disappear or not would depend entirely on Ichigo and what was going to happen once he had spoken with her.

Hanging his head, he rested there for a moment or so before then quietly forcing himself back to his feet and started walking again. Alfred met him at the end of the hall and without even being asked, move to stand right next to him and looped one of his arms around his neck while he slipped one of his arms around his waist.

He knew that he shouldn't have been so startled by the simple action, but after everything- he couldn't help but feel startled that the elderly man would even bother. Didn't he know that it was possible that he'd something beyond redemption? Wasn't he scum to him now?

"Lean on me a bit, sir." Alfred said lightly, ignoring the look of bewilderment and pain on his young master's face when he looked at him and simply helped him to the living room, and then settled him on the couch. And then went to fetch him something to drink since he looked like he really needed it.

He came back a second or so later with a small glass of his master's favorite brandy and started to hand it to him when he stopped him and said. "I shouldn't drink this right now."

"Sir?"

"I'm seriously dehydrated and my stomach is empty." His master explained before then saying, "Why don't you drink it. You look like you need it more than I do."

"Drink on the job?" He didn't know why he bothered to even ask. It wasn't as if his master wasn't right to a degree. So without even waiting for the younger man to respond, he went ahead and tossed back the drink. Downing it all in one gulp before then asking, "Do you need another one sir?"

He would never say it aloud, but it pained him to see his young master motion for him to go ahead and get another drink. As if he somehow expected that the alcohol would make things _easier_ for him to bear anything that he had to tell him. Even he knew that excessive alcohol in this situation was nothing more than a band aid.

It would do nothing for either of them but hold them both back. Besides, there were other things that needed to be done at the moment. As he recalled, his young master needed food and something to hydrate himself with.

"I'll be back in a moment sir." He said before quickly scurrying off.

Leaving the younger man alone with his thoughts for a few minutes wasn't exactly a good thing. He knew that his young master had a very bad tendency to blame himself for many, many things. And as far as he could tell, this situation was _no_ different from any other time something had happened.

Except it was.

After all, it wasn't everyday that his young master brought home a young lady who may possibly be an assault victim. It also wasn't everyday that his young master was probably the culprit either.

He took his time putting the food and drink together for his young master while he tried to sort his thoughts out about the current situation. But all he could really think was that his master had been dealt a difficult hand. And just like he had when he was orphaned as a child- he would overcome this too.

He just knew it.

Picking up the tray that he had placed the food on, and grabbing the pitcher of lemonade that he had specially made several days ago for his master, he then moved back towards the living room.

His master barely acknowledged his presence when he returned. Mostly because he was so busy beating himself up over everything that he was simply too distracted to do so until he had a plate of food held in front of his face.

His master took the plate slowly, placing it in his lap and lifted his head just enough to give him a grateful look as he muttered a quiet thank you to him before he started eating.


	4. Chapter 4

Ichigo's mind was in chaos.

Caught somewhere between awareness and sleep with her senses stretched out as far as she could manage in an effort to detect any threats to both herself and her...guest? Patient? She didn't really know what to call him right this moment. So she went with 'guest' since it was simple and easy to recall.

She'd been walking to the old condemned building to hide herself away after another annoying phone call from her dad, who had been demanding grandchildren from her. _Again._

He'd become even more insistent about her settling down in the past five years since she'd left Karakura town. In fact she'd almost call his behavior obsessive to a disturbing degree.

Though she supposed that Karin managing to secretly get herself married to Toshiro might have had _something_ to do with the sudden demand that she marry and produce offspring. She was the first born child, after all.

Then again, her dad was strange.

So the demand might be purely motivated by boredom or something else just as ridiculous. Either way, she still wanted to avoid anymore talks with him for the moment.

And the old building was the perfect place to hole up in since very few of her friends even knew about it, and thus wouldn't be able to _find_ her. Much less manage to call her there.

Whenever she holed up in the building, she tended to have very few worries or concerns. So it was ideal to sped any length of time in.

She was thinking of spending the next month in hiding there. Just in case her dad decided to abruptly visit her unannounced. Like the last time, when he'd practically chased her out of her home and all around the city before she _finally_ lost him in the sewers.

Where she had stayed for several days before finally deciding that the sewers- while a neat place to hide herself- was beyond unsanitary and she would need a tub of acid to scrub herself with just to feel clean again.

So naturally she wanted to avoid going through that again if she could.

She had just reached the building's back door and was beginning to unlock the door when she heard the sound of a crash, followed by groaning.

She would be the first to admit that she wasn't a terribly curious person. Not anymore at least.

Years and years of being a Soul Reaper had more or less viciously drilled the lesson of 'minding her own business' into her head. Along with many other lessons that she'd had difficulty learning right away.

Still...as much as she wasn't a curious person anymore; she _still_ wasn't the type to ignore someone in trouble or need. No matter how much she sometimes wished that she was.

Sighing, she turned and decided to go and see if...whoever had just fallen was in desperate need of medical attention. Either for a broken bone, or some other crazy injury.

She had walked into the alley expecting to see a drunk, or maybe one of the homeless people in the area. And somehow wound up being tackled by a very heavy, armor wearing guy in a black suit or some kind.

If not for the fact that she could make out some of his features, she never would have realized that she had Gotham's own vigilante hero; _Batman_ lying on top of her.

Of course she was startled by this. Especially since she was under the impression that he liked working under the cover of darkness and it was still daylight out.

She'd heard of the man before. His exploit's were usually all over the news. But she'd never actually seen him before though. She'd merely seen vague pictures on newspapers, and such. And she occasionally ran into someone who liked to talk about meeting him as well as how he'd helped them.

S0, she was a mite curious about what had prompted him to tackle her so suddenly.

After all, it wasn't as if she were doing anything illegal to warrant being tackled. Despite what the public records said, she _did_ own the building that she'd been about to enter. So it wasn't as if she had been trespassing. And then there was the fact that her life and health wasn't at any sort of risk either.

Still...she _was_ confused by what the man was doing tackling her like a quarter back at a football game.

Her confusion was only compounded by the fact that the man began pressing kisses to her wherever he could reach. Making a small frustrated sound in the back of her throat, because this certainly wasn't normal behavior of the man that she'd heard about.

Unless this man was actually a copycat out to ruin the original Batman's good name by attacking who was assumed to be a defenseless woman?

She went to push his head back to stop him from touching her any further since he was making her uncomfortable- however she could feel that his skin was unusually hot underneath her hand. _Alarmingly_ hot, to be honest.

So she could only figure that maybe this wasn't a copy cat after all. And the original Batman's brain had been scrambled by a really, really bad fever of some kind? Though she couldn't imagine that the man would actually be foolish enough to go out of his...vigilante cave? While ill.

That was just a stupid move that would invite all kinds of _trouble_ for him. So maybe he had actually tackled her for help? That made sense, right?

However her thoughts were interrupted when her efforts to stop him from touching her only seem to make him more frenzied since he seemed rather...determined to get to her.

And once he got fed up with her pushing him away, he growled and grabbed her wrists in a nearly crushing grip- which was also startling to her since there were _very_ few people in the world who could manage to actually hurt her by grabbing her.

After all, it wasn't as if she bruised easily. If she did, then her childhood and teen years would have been riddled with trips to the ER, and being placed in foster homes.

So now it would seem that she was in possession of a sick man. One whom seemed to be out of his _ever-loving_ mind.

_Wonderful._ She thought in exasperation. So much for her plans to hide away and have some fucking peace.

She managed to twist her wrists free of his steely grip just enough to slap both of his cheeks sharply. Don't get her wrong, she usually wouldn't have resorted to something so...weak and feminine as slapping someone in such a manner. But since the man seemed ill and out of sorts, she had decided to use kid gloves at the moment and had merely slapped him to get his attention.

And it worked too.

He stiffened, froze, scowled at her, and then asked her what the _hell_ she was doing. In that exact order.

She managed to tell him her name and then ask him what was wrong with him. But his eyes were beginning to fog over, indicating that his senses were leaving him again. So she slapped him again, just a tad bit _harder_ this time since the shock seemed to help him think clearer.

He managed to tell her that he'd been drugged, and gave her some of the symptoms he was suffering.

It was enough to let her make an educated guess as to what kind of drug was pumping through his veins. It also twisted her stomach with dread since it sounded similar to the drug that she had heard was being pushed by drug dealers on the street.

Everyone was calling it Euphoria, because that was supposed to be one of the states induced by it. Though she wasn't really seeing much of that at the moment.

But whatever. She couldn't afford to dwell on it overly much anyways since she knew that a large dose of the drug could cause severe medical problems. Some of which included heart attack, stroke, exhaustion, total organ failure, comas, and even issues that could lead to vegetative states.

She also knew that at least twenty people had fallen victim to it so far. And all of them but one had _died_ so far.

Making a choice to do what she could for him for as long as she could- if only to prevent him from being arrested by the police the second that he wound up at a hospital. Especially since it would paint a target on the backs of any family and friends that he had.

She quickly convinced him to close his eyes, and then once that was done, picked him up and quickly got them both inside and away from prying eyes.

* * *

"What are you doing master Bruce?" Alfred asked curiously once he handed the younger man his laptop computer.

"It possible that I brutalized an innocent girl, Alfred. I-I need to know who she is..." Bruce said grimly, not sure if his old friend would understand. Thankfully, Alfred tended to understand just about everything he said to him. Even the occasional gibberish.

The older man merely nodded his head in understanding and then collected the dirty plate and the silver, and left the room to take them into the kitchen.

Bruce would be the first to admit that he tended to get tunnel vision when it came to his work. So focusing entirely on learning what he could about Ichigo was at the forefront of his mind. After all, he needed to know who he'd hurt. The girl who now owned his life.

Luckily, or unluckily depending on who one asked, her life was pretty much an open book. The second that he typed her name into his supped up computer, all of the information available to the public and even some that wasn't- was open to him.

Ichigo Kurosaki, was a very interesting young lady.

Or woman, rather since she was twenty four.

A far cry from his estimation, but it eased _some_ of the self loathing he had developed for himself. If only a little. Though it didn't change anything for him aside from the fact that he hadn't actually attacked a child.

Still...it was a small victory.

Aside from learning her age, he also learned a lot more about her.

A native of someplace called Karakura town, which was located in Japan- explained her looks a little bit. Though after seeing a picture of her late mother, he could only assume that she had inherited her mom's half European blood.

She had gone to Karakura High School, and graduated with honors despite the two or so years of odd and lengthy absences. Including two _coma's_. One reconstructive surgery, several organ transplants, multiple broken bones, a ruptured spleen and a few other things that had him raising a brow.

The school had suffered a lot of damage over the years from multiple odd occurrences that happened to have damaged the building so badly that it eventually had to be shut down before it collapsed.

This little bit of information was fascinating to him for a multitude of reasons. Though it wasn't as interesting several cell phone video's that he found attached to some of the stuff about the school.

He watched the first one that he found. And then blinked and did a double take, disbelief etched into his face when he saw a teenage Ichigo on the shaky footage.

She was bruised and bleeding badly from what looked like her eyes. Or maybe she was hurt somewhere on her forehead and the injury was gushing.

Either way he knew that she had to be hurting. But that wasn't what he was finding hard to believe.

It was the fact that she was being attacked by multiple, armed opponent's. All of whom were grown men carrying blades, chains with barbs and sickles on them.

The men all charged the girl at the same time from several different directions- and yet despite the fact that the girl was hurting, and was likely all but blinded by the blood running down her face- she still somehow managed to deflect, grab, throw, flip and deliver her own blows to them. _Bare handed_.

It was mind boggling to say the least. Especially since the only people that he'd ever seen fight like that, were usually martial arts masters. And even then, a majority of the ones that he knew of were in movies. So the fighting was generally fake.

But this...he could plainly see the girl using several different fighting styles. The switch from one fighting style to another was smooth, seamless. As second nature to her as breathing.

It was _incredible_. Especially since she seemed to be winning.

He wasn't able to really tell if the reason that she was beating her opponents back was because of adrenaline or maybe something else. He supposed that it didn't really matter since it occurred to him that if she could fight while so injured- then she probably could have _kicked_ his ass six ways from Sunday.

Which was both good to know and sort of bad at the same time since he still didn't know exactly what had happened between them.

All he really knew was that he was more than _anxious_ to speak to her again and find out why she had allowed him to hurt her.


End file.
